The Other Side Of The Mirror
by thedogzoo
Summary: Some people look at the mirror for appearance. But others.. They look into it. When the Winchesters, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, the Doctor, and the Ponds are pushed into an alternate universe, what will become of them? Will they start to shape themselves for the better? Or become their reflection? *SUPERWHOLOCK*
1. Chapter 1

"Whoooah-!"

"Doctor!? What's happening!?"

Throughout the quaking, a man in a bow tie managed to run around a panel, flipping switches and shifting gears. He was panicking. "This, Amy, is what it feels like when the TARDIS decides to go against my requests," he murmured, giving up on trying to control his 'vehicle' and gripped onto the panel tightly.

Amy and Rory Pond were traveling companions with the Doctor. Who's the Doctor, you might ask? He's the man in the bow tie. He's a TimeLord, an alien, with a time machine called the TARDIS. He calls it 'Sexy' sometimes, although being quick to correct others with, 'It's TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.' Hardly anyone paid attention to his explanation.

Suddenly, the TARDIS went dead still. It had landed - but where? Nobody ever knew. That was all the fun of it.

"She decided to override you again?" Rory let go from the couch leg he was holding onto for dear life, pulling himself up to his feet.

The Doctor ran his hands through his brown hair, which just flopped back again in front of his eyes. "Yes, yes," he answered, somewhat distracted, but frustrated nonetheless. "She wants to go against everything I say," - he slammed his fist down on the panel to get a few lights going again- "doesn't she?"

"Moody old thing, aren't you?" Amy rose an eyebrow towards the ceiling. The living thing, the TARDIS, hummed slightly in amusement.

Blowing out a breath, the Doctor grabbed his sonic screwdriver and tucked it into the pocket of his tweed jacket. Snapping his suspenders and running his eyes through the room, he looked at the Ponds with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Lets see where we are."

The Doctor ran to the doors and swung one open, being greeted by a bright light of sun. "Well, not an alien planet, that's for sure," he thought aloud. Stepping out and dragging the door behind him lazily, a breeze swept through the small town he'd landed in. He licked his finger and held it up before coming to a conclusion. "Lawrence, Kansas. 2011-ish." He dragged out the year, showing hesitation and uncertainty. "Maaaybe. Modern times, definitely."

"You can tell by licking your finger?" Rory stepped out next to him, giving his alien friend a surprised look.

"Don't be surprised anymore, Rory," Amy joined the two. "Everything with him is weird."

The Doctor grinned, casting a glance at her before looking ahead again and clapping his hands together once. "Alrighty then! Come along, Ponds, lets explore."

* * *

The little area in Lawrence that the three were brought to was fairly small. There were many buildings, a few houses, before it branched off to the more populated areas of Lawrence. They had explored it all, getting a few dirty looks and smiles along the way.

Coming up to a deserted building, the Doctor stopped to look at it fully. "Huh.."

Amy inspected it, confused. "What?"

"This isn't a normal building," the Doctor concluded, taking out his sonic screwdriver and scanning it. The screwdriver glowed green at the tip, making a high pitched whining sound. "Yup, definitely not like the others. Lets go in." He started ahead, Amy right on his tail and leaving Rory behind with the expression of, 'What the fuck?' Seeing the Doctor and Amy weren't gonna come to their right minds and turn around, he sighed and ran to catch up with them.

The inside was dark and dim, damp like any other deserted building. A few leaks in the piping above their heads dripped water, causing them to dodge a few areas. There was a smell of stale water, though, kind of like swamp.

"Well then," the red haired woman muttered under her breath, stepping over a puddle. She heard the high pitched whining again and looked up, seeing the Doctor scanning anything that seemed suspicious.

They continued on, slowly walking throughout the rooms, when the Doctor came to a stop in front of something long, covered by a white sheet. His eyes narrowed, taking in all the details as he pulled it off and dropped it to the grey cement.

"A.. mirror? What's a mirror here for?" Rory spoke up after a while.

"I don't know, Rory," the Doctor glanced over at him. "Your guess is as good as mine." He scanned the frame with his screwdriver, checking the results that came up and found nothing suspicious.

"Maybe someone wanted to check their appearance," Amy remarked sarcastically.

"Who would even go inside of this thing?"

"Crazy people."

"That means that we're crazy," Rory replied to Amy, then received a nod.

"Yup."

As the three walked around the room, inspected the only thing in it, and found nothing interesting, crowded in front of the mirror. The Ponds were bickering a bit, playfully of course, whereas the Doctor stayed silent with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. His feeling was only justified when they heard little pitter-patters. Their voices went silent and their gaze was brought to the top part of the mirror.

There was blood. Blood was dripping with quiet taps, one at a time as if someone were taunting them. They ran down the glass, streaking their reflections with red.

Breath hitching in their throats, they brought their wide eyes up slowly, hoping that this was only their imaginations and that their suspicions were wrong. Soft gasps were sharp against the air when they saw a woman pinned to the ceiling. Her mouth was wide open in a silent scream, eyes as wide as saucers. Her clothing was stained a dark red, still freshly wet as the red liquid dripped, dripped down.

"Oh my god," Amy choked out.

"Dear Gallifrey," the Doctor forced, not being able to breathe in any air.

"She-" Rory started, putting a foot behind the other to steady out his balance.

Right when they saw sparks of flame start to ignite, starting to spread across the ceiling, something pushed them quickly one-by-one through the mirror. That's when the whole building began to crumble down into pieces of plaster and ash, bringing the story of the woman into the unknown.

* * *

The Doctor, Amy, and Rory all expected to smash into the glass and die in a fiery death when the flames came for them. But no. That's not what happened at all.

They went _through_ the mirror.

And landed on carpeted flooring.

 _"And cut!"_

* * *

 **Hello, my little Guardians! I'm back again!**

 **I've had this idea for quite a while now, but haven't exactly started writing until today. Now I've got the 1st chapter done.**

 **This is a SuperWhoLock story as you know from the description. I based this whole story of of a Supernatural episode, but I'm not revealing it until all of the characters have been through their little 'introduction'! Otherwise, it would just be a total spoiler and that's not good for you or me.**

 **If you have an idea of which episode of Supernatural I'm thinking of and using, tell me in the reviews! Also, please tell me what you think of it so far. I really love your feedback!**

 **Until next time, my little Guardians!**

 **Thedogzoo signing off.**


	2. Chapter 2

"We're back, Mrs. Hudson," John Watson called from the door of 221B. Shrugging off his coat as he stepped to the side, an older woman exited her flat to greet him.

"John," Mrs. Hudson spoke with a smile. She then glanced behind him to see Sherlock Holmes enter and shut the door behind him. "Sherlock. Have you found a case?"

The dark curly haired man nodded. "It was the mother." He began to unwind and tug his dark blue scarf from around his neck. "No other cases are worth my time." He then stomped up the stairs _("I wasn't stomping," he'd protest. "Gravity was going against my wishes.")_ , his shoes making clomping sounds against the wood.

John sighed and rolled his eyes, following his colleague up the stairs and into the flat that they shared together. It was a very cluttered place with questionable wallpaper. A yellow smiley face that dragged down at one corner of the mouth like rain drops on a car window was off to the side of a wall, bullet holes accompanying it. Books and papers were scattered across tables and the floor, making the carpet barely visible in some places. The kitchen table was covered with test tubes and vials and microscope slides (with a microscope), and almost everything in between.

Sherlock had flopped onto the couch on his back after hanging his black trench coat up on the coat hanger. His eyes were closed and palms pressed together in a praying motion, fingertips lightly against his lips. This was his 'thinking pose'. In his 'thinking pose', he'd never talk unless he were demanding something from someone or he had a spontaneous feeling to answer when he was being spoken to.

John draped his coat on a peg next to Sherlock's before sitting down in his chair (Yes, _his_ chair.). He closed his eyes as well, blowing out a soft breath. The life the two men led, there was no relaxing at all, really. Running back and forth and going towards danger instead of avoiding it was their specialty. In just only 2 or 3 months, they've probably ran around all of London 30 times. Give the men a medal.

There was a few minutes of silence before Sherlock snapped sharply, "Shut up."

John's eyes snapped open to give him an annoyed look. "Fine," he drawled in a sarcastic tone. "I'll stop breathing to let you think."

"That'd be marvelous," Sherlock hummed, smirking just a bit. John rolled his eyes and sighed lightly, standing up to go to his room.

"Shut up," Sherlock repeated, still staring at the ceiling with closed eyes.

"Piss off," the army-doctor grumbled, disappearing from sight up the stairs and into his bedroom. It was pretty clean, spare a pair of socks and two old newspapers that he'd forgotten to get rid of or throw into the dirty laundry. Closing the door behind him, he lied down on the bed so his feet were hanging off the edge.

He'd sometimes think back to when he and Sherlock met and question why in God's name he had agreed to being flat mates with him. The first hint was that the man proudly called himself a high-functioning sociopath. He never understood why he'd ignored it.

He remembered when he first met Mycroft - actually, _stalked_ by him. He made a show of John's tremor in his left hand. "You aren't haunted by the war, Doctor Watson.. You miss it." For a split second, John honestly thought that the government-official was bullshitting it through, but when he thought a little bit more about it, there was more truth to it than he wanted to realize.

Sherlock brought adventure and variety to his life. Right after John had gotten back into the city and into civilization, it was the same old routines all in black and white. Nothing really to live for in all honesty. But when the younger Holmes brother showed up, everything had turned a 180 and the rest was history.

John was then broken out of his thoughts by a faint whispering. His eyes opened and he pushed himself to a sitting up position, looking around. The whispering continued.

" _John.._ "

He didn't find anything but a mirror, his dresser and desk, and everything else a normal bedroom would have. Nothing out of the ordinary. No one was there. So he just passed it off as his imagination and ignored it.

" _John_ _.._ " The voice had a high pitch to it, a tease to it. As if it were to lure him into its trap. John followed the sound and figured it out to be from the mirror's direction. His brows furrowed together over his grey colored eyes, frowning.

He stood up and approached the glass apprehensively before stopping himself. ' _You're treating a mirror like it's going to attack you, you idiot,_ ' he thought bitterly, shaking his head and straightened his stance. He soon stood right in front of it, staring at his reflection.

He sees a broken man on the way to mending himself. His eyes looked tired. They looked like they'd been to hell and back, seen so many horrors to last a life time. John Watson was.. _tired_.

A deep sigh escaped his lips and he ran a hand down his face to wipe away nonexistent dust. Why was he doing this anymore? He asked himself that question, too, but didn't know what 'this' was, but he found himself wondering it anyways.

 _Drip.. Drip.. Drip.. Drip.._

John looked up from the ground behind him through the reflection and up towards the top. His eyes went as wide as saucers, taking a step back as his mouth slowly went into a small 'o' shape.

Blood dripped slowly from above, running down the clear glass and staining it. It covered his face in the reflection, more and more dripping down like rain drops off of trees after it just rained.

He slowly dragged his gaze up to find a woman. A woman in a night gown and eyes and mouth wide open, silently screaming. Dear God, John could almost hear it. Blood seeped from her abdomen, spreading across the cotton fabric and dampen rapidly by the second, hence the dripping.

Before he realized it, something with strong force shoved him into the mirror.

No.

 _Through._

* * *

Sherlock heard John's yell from his bedroom. His eyes snapped open and he was up on his feet in a blink, beginning to run up the stairs. He quickly twisted the doorknob and barged in, finding no one in site. Just the army-doctor's bedroom.

"John?" he called, walking in further and inspecting everything. There were no signs of struggle.. Well, until he spun around to face the mirror. Red substance lined it and more was dripping from its source.

Sherlock walked closer to the mirror, his heart speeding up a little bit. His silvery-blue eyes slowly looked up, doubting his suspicion, but it was soon confirmed. He couldn't even make a sound, or even think, before being shoved through the mirror in front of him.

He heard John's grunt as they landed simultaneously, feeling the carpet underneath his fingers.

 _"And cut!"_

* * *

 **Hello there, my little Guardians! How are you guys doing? :)**

 **I really liked writing this chapter. I'm sorry it was way longer than the Doctor's introduction. This one had my interest a little bit more than Doctor Who - however! This is only the introduction. I don't really care, in all honesty, how long the introductions are compared to each other. In my mind, these are just like prologues. The real chapters, when the story actually starts to take action, is when I'm going to focus on the length a little but more and variety.**

 **I'm going to try to update every single Friday, so keep on the look out towards the end of the week! I only just realized this, but this could be your guys' treat for getting through the week. So, yup!**

 **I've got two or three reviews so far and I really loved them! They had very good ideas and I'm so dying to tell you what Supernatural episode I'm using. Just one more chapter/week and you'll know and I won't be holding onto fangirling anymore. cx It feels so great to see you, who reviewed, liking it. Thank you so much. 3**

 **Please review and tell me what you think of it, as well as the Supernatural episode you're thinking of! Such good guesses so far.**

 **Happy Valentines Day, my little Guardians!**

 **Thedogzoo signing off.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean! Behind you!" Sam Winchester shouted, panting as he struggled against the force holding him against a tree. Said person, his older brother Dean Winchester, readied his sawed off shotgun, spun around, and shot. The wispy figure burst into thin air.

Sam fell to the ground with an 'oof!' and immediately grabbed a lighter from his pocket. He and his brother had already salted the bones in the grave, gasoline drenching it. All he needed was to light it up. Flipping the cover, he spun the tiny metallic wheel and pressed down hard on the push button. Flame sparked up before being thrown into the grave they had dug up.

The two brothers released a breath of relief, catching their breath, as a cold breeze swept through the trees in the dark of the night. The fire resisted it, giving them a small wave of warmth.

Dean looked up from the flames to his younger brother, giving him a slight nod. He resisted the urge to wince at how beaten up and awful Sam looked. But then again, he himself didn't look any better either.

The Winchesters watched the fire thrive and burn out before gathering their things (shovels, guns, etc.) and leaving. They walked through the dark cemetery, the grass brushing against their dirty shoes and dirt caking the soles of them.

"There's my baby," Dean grinned, hurrying up his pace to meet his 67' Chevy Impala. The black car had been around since they were children. Dean kept it alive even after his Dad, John Winchester, died. Popping the trunk, Sam and Dean dumped all of their shovels and weapons carelessly inside and slammed it back closed. Sam hopped into his usual shotgun and Dean in the driver's seat.

Soon, they were down the road with rock music blaring in the night.

* * *

"I call first shower!" Dean burst into their hotel room they had rented out for a few days. Sam only rolled his eyes.

"Of course." The youngest collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table while Dean gathered his clean clothes and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Sam listened for the shower head to rain down water against the tub, finding comfort in knowing that Dean hadn't spontaneously died. Man.. He really had to worry about that? That's a messed up life, damn. He glanced around the kitchen before standing up and grabbing a beer from the fridge. Moments like these, in relaxation, were very scarce and couldn't be wasted. He leaned against the back rest, slouching in his seat.

Dean, wanting to get out of his dirty clothes, quickly stripped of them and stepped into the hot water. He let a small noise of appreciation, an "Ahh.." escape his lips when he felt the heat. It beat against his sore back and filled him with warmth that was very much needed. He ran a hand down his face, hoping to wipe away the mental dust and fatigue away for a while. After washing up and everything, he stood there for a little while longer to think. Deciding he was done, he quickly turned the water off and dried off before changing into a new pair of clothes. It wasn't much different from his regular clothing. He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Dean hung up his towel on the rack and wiped away the steam from the mirror above the sink. He did his usual routine teeth-brushing and such. But right when he was about to leave, he froze.

" _Dean.._ " He looked around, alarmed.

"What the-"

" _Dean.._ " Dean's eyes landed on the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, still covered with steam. He reached a hand out to wipe it away, making the reflection clearer. He succeeded, but at the last second, something pulled him through it with such a force, no one could have done it. It practically sucked him up.

The oldest Winchester brother went tumbling through the glass as if it were fluid, but completely dry. His palms and knees slammed against a carpeted floor, his eyes snapping open to find a dark olive-ish green floor beneath him.

" _And cut!_ "

* * *

Sam heard a shout from the bathroom, making him jolt out of the fogginess of his mind and stop from slowly dozing out. He set his half full beer bottle down on the kitchen table and stood up, hurrying to the bathroom door.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "You alright in there?" He gave it a few seconds, no one responding. "Dean?" Nothing. Grabbing a hand gun from the bedside table, he slowly entered the bathroom, his eyes darting around the empty and warm room. Where was he?

He had entered enough to look behind the shower curtain for any possibility he had shrunken down or something like that. He jumped when the door suddenly slammed shut and he spun around, gun up and ready to fire.

" _Sam.._ " He whipped his head around, finding no one in sight.

" _Sam.._ " Said person got nearer to the source he suspected, eyeing the mirror warily. He took a few steps forward, tripping over his own feet at the last second and falling through the mirror.

Sam Winchester lost hold of his gun, catching himself on his palms and knees. It hurt, but it wasn't even close to the most minor injury he's gotten from a hunt. When he first opened his eyes, he saw a dark olive-ish green carpet underneath him.

" _And cut!_ "

* * *

 **Hey there, my little Guardians! How are you this week? :)**

 **So! The Winchesters are back! This chapter wraps up the introductions and exactly how these idiots ended up wherever they are (Not telling, spoilers!) in the first place. Now let their meetings begin. Hehehe.**

 **I know that it's technically a day early, but seriously, just a few more hours until midnight, so.. Technicalities, whatever. Surprise?**

 **I'll be doing my best to keep on schedule!**

 **I really love reviews. c: 3 Next time I'll be announcing the episode of Supernatural that I'm basing this story off of, so this is your last week to comment and review your guesses!**

 **Did I do okay on this chapter? Please tell as well!**

 **Until next time.**

 **Thedogzoo signing off.**


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing everyone saw while tumbling through their respective mirrors was green. Green carpet on a hard floor. Shards of glass surrounded them all, but oddly, didn't cut them at all. At least, it was odd to them.

Each of them looked up, on their knees, to find cameras pointed at them and people with headsets scurrying around.

"And cut!" a man, British and very familiar to Sherlock and John announced. He was sitting in a chair next to three others who were observing the screens along with him. Mark Gatniss stood up, leaving the headset that was previously around his neck on the chair and the script with someone next to him. "Very nice, everyone."

"Mycroft!?" Sherlock and John exclaimed simultaneously, then glancing at each other from the extra voice blending in with the other. Sherlock quickly stood up, John following.

Amy, Rory, and the Doctor pulled themselves to their feet, taking a look around the foreign place. The cameras, the people, scripts, lights.. This was a film set. They were being filmed for a show on the telly.

The Doctor immediately reached inside his tweed jacket pocket for his sonic screwdriver and pulled it out. It felt different. It was balanced differently, it felt lighter than usual, and like plastic instead of the metal it was usually made out of. Where he would usually put his thumb to activate it was a single button.

"It's a _toy_!" the confused Timelord cried.

Ignoring the strange man's weird claim, Sam and Dean shot to their feet in a fighting stance, ready to take down a few people if they needed to. The knife tucked under Sam's shirt suddenly felt fake and plastic, and when he brought it out, it was retractable. Not metal or remotely real anymore.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean's first words were and quite loud at that. It startled the three next to them, the redhead woman's eyes darting over to them. "Where the hell are we?"

Sam looked around, leaning in close to his older brother to talk quietly. "Well, we definitely aren't in Kansas anymore."

"Don't treat me like Dorthy."

"I'm-" Sam paused, taking in how ridiculous that demand was and rolled his eyes, scowling for a moment. "Whatever."

Dean bent down to pick up a piece of glass, which immediately bent backwards between his fingers. He shot up to his regular height, flinging it back and forth in front of Sam's face. "It's fucking _rubber_!"

Sam shot a glance at the rest next to him at Dean's bad language before glaring daggers at said person. "You might want to be quiet," he warned.

"Nevermind being quiet," Dean snapped. "None of us know where we are, I fell _through_ a mirror, and everything is fake. Don't I have the right to freak out!?"

* * *

When the seven of them stopped talking and looked at the people beyond the set they were in, familiar faces happened to pop up.

The first was Mycroft, for Sherlock and John. Sherlock had immediately found the name plate on the director's chair he was previously in, finding 'Mark Gatniss' as his name. He scoffed. "What kind of name is _Mark_?"

"Apparently, your brother's," John hissed in a hushed tone.

"He's not my brother," Sherlock replied. The stupid look on his face, along with the tone, shouted, 'You're an idiot!' "He's obviously someone else. I just don't know how."

"Oh look," John drawled. "The great Sherlock Holmes not knowing something - first time ever!"

"Shut up."

Meanwhile, Rory was freaking out, the Doctor mentally running around, and Amy was calm but silently cursing all logic. In her calmness, Amy reached out to Rory and took his hand, bringing him closer.

"Rory," she said firmly, getting his attention. Her voice then softened a bit. "We've done things like this before and we've lived."

"This doesn't make any sense," Rory mumbled, letting his free hand run down his face.

"Since when does anything we do make sense?" Amy quirked an eyebrow at her husband, remembering when she met the 30-year-old version of herself and when the TARDIS was inside a girl's body with a planet inside the real box, trapping them in some type of fucked up time loop.

"..True." Rory shrugged his shoulders.

"For God's sake, Sammy- wait, is that Ruby?" Dean snapped his head in a certain direction, finding the familiar brunette.

Sam looked over, his eyes then going wide. "I guess so," he choked out his words.

"And Cas? Balthazar?" Dean felt his feet move, taking him towards the little cluster of people. "Lucifer?"

"Moriarty?" Sam heard a British accent almost gasp. Almost. Not quite, but the owner of the voice seemed very surprised.

* * *

The seven fictional characters couldn't help but stare in shock at everyone, and I mean _everyone_ from their past and present. Everyone who was dead, everyone who they'd lost touch with.. Everyone.

But that was before they were pulled away from the set.

A woman with jet black hair and a wide, happy smile grabbed the Doctor's wrist and pulled him towards a vanity stand where they did actor's make-up. "C'mon, Matt," she said, sitting him down in a chair.

The Doctor fidgeted, hanging half off of the chair. "Um-" He racked his brain for anything to make this make sense to him, his fingers twitching in front of him and eyes darting from object to object on the table, not picking up anything from it. He felt a wipe run down his face and he flinched away. "Hey! I-" He glanced at the make-up removing wipe with disgust, finding it covered with make-up the color of his skin. His eyes darted to the mirror and he leaned forward, a hand slowly brushing over the spot on his cheek.

"Oh my god, I'm a painted whore!" Dean gasped loudly a little ways away, earning weird looks, especially from his make-up artist. He kept on flinching away from the woman's hand, agitating her and eventually caused her to snap.

"Jensen, you sit your ass right down now," she firmly said abruptly.

Dean's eyes widened and he nodded slowly, learning his role in this little game that he was thrown into. Unfortunately for everyone else, their roles were being learned at different rates.

Sherlock was pulled to his side of the set, being called the name 'Ben', which he held great distaste to. He hadn't reacted well to be man handled, eventually making the make-up artist almost cry.

John just felt really awkward, fidgeting in his seat. Rory as well, where Amy was just as feisty and friendly as usual.

No one knew what happened, and found all of this a bit hectic for a spur of the moment thing. But oh boy, were they wrong.

* * *

 **Hey there, my little Guardians! How are you guys this week? :)**

 **I'm honestly not proud of this chapter at all. I mean, I'm glad of the slight description in it, but I'm not happy with the length or action in it at all. To tell the truth, I wasn't feeling it this time around?** **I strive to make my chapters long and interesting and I will make as much sure as I can that it will happen. Maybe just not this week.**

 **So, my schedule has been changed dramatically this week and it will be like that for a long time. Every Tuesday, my mother has my little brother and I from 3:00-8:00 PM, which immediately lessens any writing time. Then every Wednesday, I have violin from 6:30-7:00 PM. Every Thursday for the most part, I have something else from 6:00-7:00 PM that I will not be sharing publicly.**

 **This is the first week of me having the schedule, as well as just coming back from mid-winter break (a whole week out of school). School itself is a factor too of by busy-ness.**

 **So, in other words, I am very stressed right now and will be for a while, most likely.**

 **On a different note, thanks to everyone who reviewed their guesses for the Supernatural episode! They were very good guesses, and I'm proud to say, they were all correct.** **The Supernatural episode I'm basing this off of is _The French Mistake!_**

 **I apologize for my slight laziness with this chapter and I will try to do better next time. I'm just trying to get the hang of things.**

 **Please review (especially), as well as follow this story's updates!**

 **Until next time.**

 **Thedogzoo signing off.**


	5. Chapter 5

The make-up artists wiped their assigned actors of the old make-up and sent them on their way. Wandering the studio, they eventually found chairs that had their 'fake' names on them. A little group started to form until they were all there.

Sherlock was murmuring questions to John, slowly starting to go mad. "How is this happening? How did we fall _through_ a _mirror_!?"

John blew out a breath through his nose, running a hand down his face. He shook his head. "How would I know?" he questioned, his voice letting annoyance seep through. "I'm not a damn magician."

"You were there first," Sherlock pointed out, gesturing towards his with his left index finger, his hands pressed together like a prayer against his cupid's bow. "You saw everything."

"I didn't see what the process was," John hissed. "One moment I was in our bathroom, the next I'm here."

"Pay more attention next time!"

"Fine," the army-doctor drawled. "Next time I spontaneously fall through a mirror and into another dimension, I'll pay more attention."

* * *

Amy perked up at hearing the words 'another dimension.' "You've been sucked here too?" she hesitantly spoke up.

The man in front of her with sandy blonde hair turned around to see her. His expression at first was how it was talking to the man next to him, annoyed and irritable. It softened once he saw her. "Us?"

Amy nodded. "Yeah.. Who else would I be talking to?"

A corner of his lips curled up in amusement. "In that case, yes. I'm assuming that your friends-" he gestured towards the Doctor and Rory, then to the other side where two brothers (thanks to Sherlock's deductions) sat, "are too?"

Amy's brows furrowed over her green eyes. "Actually.." Her words faded as she tilted her chin up to look over him at the two brothers. "I don't know them." She glanced up to the side, thinking for a moment, then back to him. "I don't know you either, actually."

The man was quick to introduce himself, offering his hand to shake. "Oh! John Watson." He pulled his hand away from hers to gesture to the dark haired one next to him. "This is Sherlock Holmes."

Amy's eyes brightened at the mention of their names. "Oh, I've heard of you two!" She started to smile widely. "I read your blog when the Doctor was screwing around with some tools of his."

John nodded. "I, uh, get that a lot when meeting new people."

"I bet." John chuckled in response to this, only to be interrupted by one of the unknown people off to his side.

"So," the shorter one began, "do you guys have no idea what the hell happened either?"

John and Amy both nodded. "How'd you get here?"

"Fell through a fucking mirror for God's sake." Dean shook his head in disbelief.

Amy sat straight up, visibly alarmed. "I did too!"

"Us two as well," John gestured to Sherlock. The consulting detective merely glanced over at his friend, no expression to be seen, before going back to his staring into open space.

"Well then." Dean blew out a breath. "Who are you two? I'm Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam." Said brother held up a hand in a wave, a single nod in their direction before he went back to analyzing whatever was in view.

The two introduced themselves to the hunter just when Rory and the Doctor decided to jump in.

"This is Rory and I'm the Doctor," the Time Lord said quickly all in one breath. "It looks like we've been shoved into a parallel universe. I don't know how exactly such technology can be stored in just simple glass, but if I am correct, which I almost always am, this isn't some type of bizarre parallel universe where we're trapped in by giraffes. It behaves like any other." He paused. "I have been in one particular bizarre one though. It was not fun trying to get out."

Dean stared blankly. "Your name is Doctor?"

There was a groan. "Yes, yes."

"Apparently mine is-" Rory turned around to look at the name plate on his chair, "Arthur Darvill."

Sam checked his, his face scrunching up as he read it. "Jared Padalecki."

"You're _Swedish_?" Dean made a face. Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring his comment as the others read their actor names.

"Martin Freeman."

"Karen Gillan."

"Matt Smith?"

"Jensen Ackles."

Sherlock didn't do anything, just sitting in slouch-ish position, staring straight ahead. He was silent and not moving. Some of them wondered if he was alive.

"..Sherlock?" John spoke. "Are you alive or..?"

"Yes, of course I'm alive," Sherlock suddenly snapped. "I'm _breathing_. Don't tell me you're turning into Anderson. Apparently my name in this dimension is Benedict Cumberbatch."

There was a snort from the Winchester's direction, which earned a cold glare that could send soldiers away with their tails between their legs.

Amy awkwardly puffed her cheeks out for a moment before blowing out air in a sigh. "Lets see who we are then."

The Doctor jumped up from his seat. "Ah, yes, lets go do that." He turned towards the rest, evidence on his face that he hadn't thought of something. "Where do we live?"

* * *

"Damn, Sammy," Dean wolf-whistled. "How many shows did you take up to get _this_?"

Sam only glared at his brother, walking inside and leaving the door open to 'his' house. It was more of a mansion, actually. It was grand and fancy, some alcohol on a table in the corner, multiple floors above, paintings of himself and some other girl, a pretty expensive looking couch, etc.

Rory peeked behind the curtain. "You've got a llama?"

"Alpaca, genius," a woman's voice was heard in a disgusted tone. Everyone looked up to find Ruby, a beautiful brunette with a black dress on that hugged her figure just right.

"Ruby?" Dean gaped.

The woman rolled her eyes, descending down the stairs in black heels. "Nice one, Jensen," she said sarcastically. "Jared, I'm leaving now. They're gonna be disappointed you know.."

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, stumbling over words and pronunciation. "Uh.. Yeah! Yeah, I know they will, but I'm uh- kind of busy.." He was missing a name, which she apparently got right away.

"Genevieve?"

"Genevieve!" Sam put an awkward smile on. "Yeah. I'll see you tonight."

Genevieve grabbed her handheld purse off of the couch and leaned up to kiss Sam on the cheek before leaving. "Have fun, I guess." She sounded disappointed, or a bit annoyed, when she left, closing the door behind her.

Sherlock wandered around the room, his coat and scarf along with everyone else's on the coat hanger right next to the door, as he inspected everything to gather a story. "Wealthy man, I see," he murmured.

While Dean plopped down on the couch, John awkwardly sitting next to him, the Doctor spotted a laptop on the kitchen table.

"Now, why don't we see who we are?" He swept it up into his hands and moved it over to a certain spot he wanted. He flipped the lid open and his fingers started typing at a fast speed once a few clicks to unlock the computer (such an easy password, it's appalling) and open a browser was made.

Everyone found a seat at the table, flocking around. The Doctor gave a slight scowl, jutting his elbows out. "Personal space, geesh." He first looked up Dean's 'name,' Jensen Ackles.

Sam leaned over to read over the Doctor's shoulder and he grinned widely. "You were in a soap opera?"

* * *

 **Hello, my little Guardians! How are you this week? :)**

 **I'm actually proud of this one. This chapter I had fun with, but it was difficult with my time schedule.**

 **So, about the updates, I'll do my best to get it up on Fridays, but I can't be certain for every single week. I don't want to be worrying, which I do to say the truth, about writing the chapter fast enough to get it up on Fridays. But don't worry, I'll do my best to get a chapter up at least once a week. If I miss one, I'll probably give two chapters in one week for make up and regular updating.**

 **Nothing much for me really happened this week to inform you guys about.. Just regular old stuff.**

 **Well, I take that back. My younger brother is officially a leprechaun hunter, apparently. cx**

 **Well, that's all for now. Please review! I love getting feedback, and I must admit, compliments are nice too. :)**

 **Just to make it official, seeing I haven't done it yet as far as I recall, I do not own Supernatural, Doctor Who, or Sherlock.**

 **Again, please send a review and feedback!**

 **Until next time.**

 **Thedogzoo signing off.**


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